Dreaming of You
by HidingintheInkwell
Summary: Ferb Fletchley is a quiet 19 year old living in a mental institution. At night he dreams about being a kid and having a brother and friends to go on these fantastic adventures with and build amazing things. But the dreams are changing, and he's left with four words when he wakes up. "Hang in there. We're coming for you..."
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: If I owned Phineas and Ferb Montnessa would be a thing, Phinabella would not, and the show would still be going on!

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Prologue:

"Ferb! I know what we're going to do today! We're going to rebuild that rollercoaster that we made at the start of this summer, but this time it's going to be a musical! Can you picture it, bro? Random outbursts of song with no discernable music source! You go dig out the blueprints, I'll start ordering parts!" The redhead beside him leapt to his feet in a flurry of movement, off before Ferb could even blink. Climbing to his feet and brushing grass off his high waisted purple shorts, he headed for Blueprint Heaven while his brother put in a call to Blowtorch City. He'd nearly made it to the gate when the rest of the gang walked in. "Hey Dinner bell! Wacha dooin? OUCH!" Buford rubbed his side, staring at the girl in pink with a slightly frightened expression on his face. The addressed boy turned away from the phone with a grin. "We're making a musical rollercoaster!"

"Sorry, only one ride per customer." The Invention was a smashing success. Everyone joined in with the singing, and the rollercoaster was even more accepted than it was the 1st time. As they bid the last of their friends and the top of the tree burst into flames, the angular faced boy turned to him with a wide grin splitting his features. "That was amazing, Ferb! I'd say we should totally do it again, but that would be a bit redundant wouldn't it. Not like any old invention can be turned into a musical! What do you think we should do tomorrow?" Ferb shrugged, taking in the fact that the other boy was practically vibrating. "You're right. Why start wondering now? We might get too excited about it and want to start today! Besides, mom said there was snacks! Let's go!" The boy leapt to his feet, turning back to Ferb when he didn't immediately join him. "You coming, Ferb?" He shook his head. "You go on, Finn. I'm not really hungry right now." The corners of his vision were beginning to fade. The redhead seemed to study him for a moment, then a funny sort of smile curved his lips. "Don't worry, Ferb. We're on our way." The boy didn't move, even as the darkness closed in over Ferb's head, pulling the Brit under.


	2. Chapter One: Waking Up

Chapter One: Waking Up

"Good morning, Mr. Fletchley. You know I hate to wake you, but it's time to take your medication." Ferb opened his eyes, gaze taking in the young woman standing by his bed before briefly sliding to the calendar on the wall behind her. Purple crayon marked out the yesterdays, leading up to the present. October 20th. Nearly 2 years to the day since he'd come to be a resident of the Triville Mental Health Institution. Eyes drawn to a small orange triangle drawn around a box two days from now he felt his lips curl into a small smile. Visitation day! The sound of pills rattling in a paper cup brought his attention back to the Dark-haired nurse who'd woken him. "You with me, Mr. Fletchley? I know you don't like taking them, but I have to give them to you anyway."

With a quiet sigh, Ferb sat up and took the proffered cup, tossing them into his mouth and swallowing them dry before accepting the matching cup of water. The nurse offered him a smile, taking both now empty cups and setting them down on her cart. The routine was the same every morning. Her name was Ginger. She'd been in her final internship for her Nursing degree when he'd been admitted, and had come to work at the hospital after graduation. She was Korean, with thick dark hair kept pulled back in a regulation bun and her olive skin seeming to glow slightly against the pale blue of her scrubs. She was a firecracker when she wanted to be, and every morning if he wasn't already awake when she came in to give him his meds, she'd wake him with the familiar "You know I hate to wake you..." She was always nice to him, never made him open his mouth to check that he'd swallowed his pills, but he'd seen the way she'd handle some of the unrulier patients when it came time for the noon dosage. She had no qualms about calling in an orderly to keep them still while she forced them to take their prescriptions.

"Alright, Ferb," she whispered, smiling like his name was a secret for just the two of them to share. "I'll come find you when it's time for your next dose. Go ahead and get dressed and Buford will come in about 30 minutes to take you to therapy. Have a good day, sweetie." Ferb nodded, offering her a wave as she wheeled the cart back into the hall and closed his door behind her. None of the residential rooms here had locks, but that was fine by him. No one came in without knocking anyway.

Standing and collecting a change of clothes, he stepped into the small washroom next to his closet. It was tiny, with no door and just a sink, toilet, and stand up shower with no curtain, but he didn't really care. He briefly pondered a shower, but shook the thought away. He didn't want Buford wondering why he wasn't answering his knocks and coming in. He could just take one tonight before bed. Stripping out of his pajamas, he pulled on a pair of worn jeans that were starting to fray around the ankles and knees, a pair of the crisp white socks his dad had brought on his last visit, and was reaching for the purple long sleeved shirt he'd thrown over the sink when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

His hair was getting a bit shaggy, he'd have to see about getting an appointment with the barber, and his narrow face was looking a bit thin-he hoped the dietician wouldn't notice. He hated when they changed his meal plan-and his dark eyes were starting to shadow underneath. Done taking stock of his features, he let the eyes reflected back at him drop to his bare torso. Lean muscles slid under smooth, pale skin as he shifted, but the space was riddled in long thin lines of silver.

Every time he thought back to the events leading up to his admittance, it was a blank. He'd been told there was an accident, a terrible accident and someone close to him had died. The event had addled him, and a month later he'd been admitted into the hospital under suicide watch. He'd only supposed to be there for three days. He knew the events, but only through others. He had no memories of an accident or of losing anyone close to him. His mother had left the picture when he was little, his dad regularly came to visit, and he saw his grandparents on holidays.

He'd always been a quiet kid, so he hadn't had very many friends, so he couldn't fathom whom he might have lost, and how that lost could have driven him to do this to himself. He watched as his reflection reached up, tracing cool fingers over an angular scar just above his left pectoral. The shape of it often reminded Ferb of the time they'd given the residents movie night and played the second Shrek movie; the scene where Puss in Boots carves a P on onto Pinocchio's rear. The scar was all sharp slashes, overlapping in places until it resembled a P drawn by someone who couldn't draw curved lines. As his fingers rubbed over the raised lines he felt something stir in the back of his mind, a half-remembered glimpse of bright eyes, a warm smile, and crimson hair glinting in the sun.

He closed his eyes, trying to tug the memory loose and find out why it set a warm feeling shivering through his body, but just as he felt himself getting a grip on it there was a knock at the door and the image shivered and collapsed like a house of cards. Blinking back open his eyes, Ferb was shocked to see moisture gathering in the corners. Before he could give it too much attention though, there was another knock followed by rough, deep baritone calling his name. "Mr. Fletchley? Are ya ready for therapy? I know ya don't like to talk but I need some kind of acknowledgement or rules state I gotta come in there whether ya state of dress is appropriate or not." Grabbing the shirt, Ferb quickly yanked it over his head, rubbing his eyes on the sleeves and running his fingers through his tangled locks in an attempt to rid himself of the bedhead. He was still hopping awkwardly, trying to tug the white slip-ons over his feet when he tugged open the door.

Buford Vanston was an African American man in his late 30's. In high school he'd been Regional Wrestling Champion three years running and got a full ride scholarship to college. A torn ligament his junior year ended any chances of going professional and instead led him to being a prison security guard for 8 years while taking part time classes to get a degree in Social Working. He'd been working as an Orderly at Triville for 5 years and was usually called to help with the more violent patients, but a couple times a week, unless he was called elsewhere, he'd be on what he jokingly called "Ferb Duty", escorting the teen to his appointments and activities.

He didn't seem to mind that Ferb didn't talk, filling the silence with stories of the goldfish named Biff that he'd had for nearly five years, a present from his mother when he started work at Triville. Unfortunately, she'd died of cancer not long after, and he'd renamed the fish after her in remembrance. The way he talked about the creature, one could almost be convinced he was talking about his child. As the two walked down the hall side by side, Ferb spared him a small glance before clearing his throat. "How's Bridget?" He asked, voice quiet. A wide grin broke out on the older man's face. "Ah, she's fantastic. They've got her studying a newly discovered fish species in the Amazon. She sent me pictures just the other day of herself with this tiny little monkey perched on the top of her head while she fed the thing pieces of papaya. Had to warn her not to get too attached. The landlord would never forgive us."

Loud, deep guffaws of laughter echoed through the hall as his broad shoulders shook at the joke. Bridget was his fiancé, a French woman a bit younger than him whom he'd met during a summer abroad. She'd been studying to become an Environmental Biologist. The two had kept in touch, agreeing to meet during the next summer holiday. They'd gotten engaged about a year ago.

Buford was still chuckling and regaling Ferb with other adventures his soon-to-be bride when they arrived at the office of Ferb's psychologist, Buford rapped twice on the door before leaving Ferb with a smile and a promise to return later. The boy didn't have to wait long before the heavily accented voice called for him to enter.


	3. Chapter Two: Therapy

Chapter 2: Therapy

On a good day, he was Dr. Baljeet Tenggiri, renowned psychologist and mathematician who graduated with honors from top universities with doctorates in mathematics, psychology, and astrophysics by the time he was 25. He'd published countless books on everything from the connections between mathematics and Hindu religion, to the effects of mental illnesses on both the brain and nervous systems. On a bad day, however, he was just Jeet, hypermanic with OCD symptoms who will go off on each little thing that isn't exactly perfect and scratch himself till he bled if it wasn't put right immediately.

Wild eyed with tangled hair sticking up like the Einstein poster he kept in his office from where he'd yank at it, it was impossible to get him to focus on anything, wide eyes darting all over while he mumbled intelligible mathematic equations and how there was too much atmosphere to properly study the universe, if only there was a way to transfer the atmosphere to the moon so that he could see without it being through pea soup, and if he got anything less than an A+ they'd hang the shame curtains, not the shame curtains, anything but the shame curtains that left him in the dark and all alone with the thoughts of what a failure he was, he was a failure, a failure, his ancestors were rolling in their graves and cursing his name, oh how the gods were angry he was a disgrace to the Tenggiri name, never to reach Swarga Loka now.

Sometimes bad episodes only lasted a few hours, sometimes a whole day, but sometimes they lasted longer. He'd be taken back to the room situated just off his office by Buford, who managed the young man with starting gentleness, and when he was back to being his calm, well-groomed and mild-mannered self the only evidence that he'd had an episode would be the stark white bandages that peeked from beneath his lab coat whenever he raised an arm. When Ferb entered the small, cozy office, the Indian was sitting behind an ornate cherry stained desk, a math book lying open in front of him. When not at the hospital, he often guest lectured at a local college. He must have been preparing.

Glancing up at the sound of the door closing, he offered up a friendly grin. "Ah, Ferb! How are you today?" Even after having been in America for most of his academic career, Dr. Tenggiri still held a thick accent. "Please, have a seat! I trust you have been well since we last had met." Ferb nodded, lowering himself into one of the surprisingly comfortable chairs opposite the desk. He liked Dr. Tenggiri's office. The walls were covered in posters featuring famed psychologists, Einstein, Newton, and mathematicians he couldn't begin to name right alongside his many awards and achievements, some photos of his family back in India, and Hindu symbols. There was an incense burner shaped like a dancing elephant, the bronze figurine covered in the decorative coverings commonly seen during festivities. Just next to it was a photo of a younger Dr. Tenggiri grinning widely, a young woman in a sari, her thick black hair pulled back from her rounded face and an ornate gold nose ring catching the sunlight as she wrapped an arm around the man in a feinted headlock.

The two were covered head to toe in colored powder and looked like they couldn't possibly have been happier. He'd been caught looking at it during one of his first sessions, and the older man had explained that the woman was named Mishti, a childhood friend. The picture had been taken during Holi, the Indian festival of Color. He'd come home for a visit just in time for celebration and she'd greeted him by sneaking up behind him and crashing a handful of powder filled eggs over his head.

The doctor closed the math book, setting it aside and pulling out a folder Ferb knew contained his name, family history, the details of his admittance, and notes from each of their sessions. "So, Ferb. How have you been sleeping? Any insomnia?" Ferb shook his head. He'd never really had troubles sleeping, even as a kid. The meds he took around dinner usually made him drowsy. "Any nightmares? Night terrors? Sleepwalking episodes?" Again a headshake. Dr. Tenggiri's voice was soft as he leaned forward slightly, meeting Ferb's gaze with his own dark eyed one. "Are you still dreaming about him?" The teen hesitated a moment before nodding.

About a year ago he'd started having dreams. He'd close his eyes to fall asleep, but when he'd open them again it was like he'd gone back in time and into some kind of alternate reality. He was a kid again, and he had friends to go on these crazy adventures with, and a brother who'd get him to help build such amazing, impossible things. Things that not even the brightest minds could put together, all in the space of a day. Together they'd travel to the moon and make ice cream, or find the lost City of Atlantis and bring it to the surface with helium balloons. He could never remember his dream brother's name, only that some of their friends just called him Finn, but all of his friends shared names with many of the nurses and orderlies, and even Dr. Tenggiri himself. When the doctor had heard this, he'd smiled and said something about the subconscious being a funny thing.

"Ferb?" Ferb focused back on the doctor. "Are the dreams the same as they have been?" Ferb nodded slowly, hesitantly. He trusted the doctor, but he wasn't sure he wanted to quite share the latest development. About a month ago the dreams had started to change a bit. They still started like they usually did; he'd open his eyes and he'd be sitting under the now familiar oak tree, a bubbly redhead seated next to him, pouring over an outspread blueprint to whatever the day's invention was going to be. It seemed the boy's imagination had no bounds and when he saw he had Ferb's attention, a huge grin would break out across his angular face. "Ferb! I know what we're going to do today!" and away they'd go, Finn making phone calls to suppliers and waiting for their stuff to arrive and then they'd be off in a whirlwind blur.

Somewhere along the way their friends would show up: Baljeet, a small school obsessed Indian boy in overalls, Buford, a large, beefy boy with no neck and a buzz cut; the neighborhood bully identified by the Punisher t-shirt he always wore. Isabella was the girl across the street. Leader of her local girl scouts troop, when she wasn't in uniform she was in a pretty pink dress, bow in her hair and large blue eyes batting away at Finn.

However, about Ferb felt himself starting to wake up, instead of just fading out of the dream and waking up in his room, Finn would sit down next to him under the tree, staring at him with a look in his eyes that didn't belong in the wonderful happiness of his dream world. It was a look full of a sad sort of determine, resolve layered with something akin to accepted resignation, like some tragedy had happened, and he'd accepted the outcome but was still determined to change it. Just as everything was starting to fade away, he'd look at Ferb with this myriad of expressions, and he'd smile a sad, heartbreaking smile. "We're coming for you, Ferb," he'd say," Not long now, so just hang in there. We're coming..."

The words would still be echoing in his head when the orderlies came to collect him.

"Ferb, is there something you would like to tell me? Does it have something to do with the dreams?" Dr. Tenggiri's voice was soft and caring, but there was something in his eye, a light that made Ferb a bit nervous. He wasn't sure he wanted to tell the doctor about the change in his dreams. He trusted the man, he'd been given no reason not to in the 2 years he'd been seeing him, but there was something about that look in his eye... Decision made, he shook his head decisively. He had nothing to tell.

A change came over the dark-skinned man, like a shadow falling across the sun. He looked like he was about to say something, maybe force the answers he was looking for out of Ferb, but before he could a loud, piercing scream echoed down the hall and through the door. A moment later, an Orderly Ferb didn't know knocked on the door before pushing it open and sticking her head in. She was wearing scrubs in a shade of burnt orange and she had short, light brown hair and wire framed glasses. "Sorry to interrupt, sir, but it's Mrs. Candace." Dr. Tenggiri sighed and stood. "Thank you, Gretchen. Please go find Mr. Vanston if he is needed. I will be there shortly." Turning to Ferb, he offered him a grin. "Ah, the joys of a hospital. Never a dull moment. Until our next meeting, Mr. Fletchley."


	4. Chapter Three: Candace & Visitation Day

Chapter 3: Candace and Visitation Day

Of all the cases admitted into the Triville Mental Health Institution, Candace Johnson was probably the most tragic case. In her late 20's, the once vibrant ginger was a mother of 2 with a loving husband, good friends, and one of the most tragic pasts anyone at the hospital had ever heard. Often in a catatonic state but prone to bouts of mania, no one was quite sure what led to her admittance, but many believed the trigger was caused by the death of her younger brother and his best friend.

When Candace was 16, she'd taken the boys to a semi-local amusement park while their parents had an outing. It was the start of summer vacation, school had just let out, and the boys had wanted to ride everything they could. Hyped up on cotton candy and cherry sodas, the last ride of the day was going to be a rollercoaster known for being the scariest because of all the loops and blind drops. They'd been supposed to ride it together, the three of them, but just as the ride was boarding Candace received a call from her mom. She'd stepped away to take it, motioning the boys to go ahead without her, and that's when tragedy had struck. They'd been in the very last car, better anticipation that way, and the ride had started without a hitch. They made it through the first drop at breakneck speed, merging immediately into the first of three loops. The boys never made it to the third loop.

Somewhere in the middle of the second loop, the remaining 2 cars somehow had broken loose from the main body and become derailed. They plummeted nearly 20 feet, killing her brother and one of the upper car's passengers immediately. The boy's friend died of collapsed lungs and internal bleeding in the ambulance, and the remaining passenger, a 14-year-old girl named Garcia Shapiro was left paralyzed from the waist down and prone to epilepsy due to brain damage.

The families had all tried to move on, funerals were held with coffins much too small, and investigations were made into the cause of the accident, but no signs of foul play could be identified and it was chalked up to wear and tear. The ride was shut down until a full inspection could be made and further precautions could be assembled, and the ride was reopened less than 2 years later. During that time, Candace and her parents had moved away from the small town, she'd started college and met the man who'd later become her husband.

9 years after the accident, it seemed time had healed the wounds until they were covered in the protection of scar tissue. Candace was a mother of a bright, vivacious 7-year-old named Amanda Lynn and a quiet 6-year-old named Xavier Finnegan after the brother she lost. The family decided on a surprise vacation that brought them within 10 miles of that amusement park. When the children heard about it, they begged and begged until their parents finally gave in and took them. They avoided the location of the rebuilt rollercoaster, focusing on the more age friendly rides and games, but the time came for them to leave. In order to get to the exit, they had to pass the rollercoaster, and that's when Candace O'Flander Johnson's life crumbled for a second time. They'd been trying to hurry past when a loud screaming drew the attention of the family.

The ride was nearing its ending when a shuddering had wracked the train of cars, sending several of the passengers into a screaming frenzy. And right in the back car, clutching the restraints in nervousness, were 2 boys, about 12 years old, with very familiar hair. As the ride plunged down its last drop, the ride shuddered again, appearing to rock on the tracks. The two boys clutched hands, faces equally terrified and exhilarated, and Candace's head was full of screaming.

She'd been there just a bit longer than Ferb. Her husband, Jeremy, came every visitation day, telling her about the children and how her mom was doing, little bits about the life outside and the family she had waiting. Sometimes on good days, when the children didn't have school he'd bring them along, let them tell their mother all about school and friends and what was going on in their lives. He'd bring their Aunt Stacy along, both to help wrangle the unruly children and because she'd been Candace's friend since the 2 were in grade school.

Like Ferb's calendar, Candace's had slashes through the days that had passed, but hers had Red hearts around visitation days. Today was a red heart day, and as he sat in the common room waiting for his dad to arrive, he could tell it was a good day for Candace. Her hair had been washed and brushed and she was wearing jeans and a red shirt that had once been fitted to the curves of her body, but one too many bad days had made it a bit loose. She wore a bright smile and practically bounced in her seat in eagerness. As the hour struck, the doors swung out on their hinges as though struck by a hurricane and in came a blur of strawberry blonde hair and lavender dress, followed closely by a slightly more subdued blur of brilliant red and blue. Twin cries of "MOMMY!" echoed through the space, startling a few of the zoning patients.

The blurs materialized as a girl in a lavender dress and purple coat, and a boy in blue overalls and a darker blue jacket as they crashed into their mother's arms, greeting her with kisses and talking over one another in eagerness to regale the latest events of their lives to her. The doors hadn't quite managed to swing shut completely when they were pushed open to reveal a tall Asian woman in a blue pantsuit and a slightly tired looking blond man in khakis and a green dress shirt. Both were smiling when they saw the chattering children gathered around their mother.

Ferb was so wrapped up in the beautiful moment that he missed the arrival of his dad until the older Brit was seated in front of him. "How are you doing, son? They still treating you right around here?" Ferb grinned at the sound of the familiar thick accent, turning to give the dark-haired man his full attention. Lawrence Fletchley looked tired behind his square framed glasses. "I'm doing good dad. How about you? The Antique store still doing well?"

"Oh yes, doing swimmingly! Store is booming as ever. Your grandparents send their love. Grandpa Reg's knee is acting up so they're not sure if they'll make it for holiday but they said they'd try. Oh! Eliza and Beckham got into Oxford, did I tell you? Ah yeah, we're all very proud. Going to be great lawyers, those two. Just you wait..." Ferb let his father's voice wash over him as he felt himself zoning out a bit, wondering what adventures the redhead boy would have in store for them tonight. Last night had been a rocket ship to check out a star their dad had named after them. It had turned out to be an asteroid milkshake bar and they'd had to fight a giant robot. The night before was a giant wading pool and a sorbet machine that turned people into bees.

Letting his gaze slide around the room, he got the niggling feeling he was being watched, and his gaze drifted to a far corner of the room. There, half hidden by the doors, was a rather short man with a thick bushy mustache and circular glasses. He had a long, orangeish nose sticking over the 'stash, and it must have been a trick of the light because the man almost seemed to look a bit teal. It must have been the clothes he was wearing, but it didn't explain what he saw when the man turned. Sensing Ferb's gaze, the stranger's dark gaze met him head on, widening in surprise before he quickly turned and bolted for the door, slipping out if them in a flurry of lab coat and something orange. If Ferb wasn't mistaken, he could have sworn it looked like a beaver tail. But that couldn't have been right...

"Hey, Ferb! Ya with me buddy?" His attention was pulled to the present by a pair of bright blue eyes framed in wavy strands of hair the color of candied apples. Startled, he leaned back, blinking a few times to refocus. He was sitting on his bed, and someone was licking his hand.


	5. Chapter Four: Flynn Phinbar

Chapter Four: Flynn Phinbar

The redhead seated in the chair across from him was grinning widely, red cheeks nearly hiding his eyes as he tipped back his head in laughter. Glancing down, he shook his head at the Blue Heeler sitting by his feet, tongue lolling as he nudged the teen's hand in a not so subtle urging to be pet. Rolling his eyes, Ferb obediently began to scratch the animal behind the ear, relishing in the soft fur beneath his fingers. "There you are, Perry," he whispered to the dog, turning his attention back to the owner. Flynn had reined back his laughter, but had to pause a moment before saying anything in order to catch his breath and wipe tears from his eyes. "Oh Ferb, buddy, you shoulda seen the look on your face! You were completely zoned and then all of a sudden you were like "What's going on? Who's licking me?!" The young man slapped his knee a couple times, drawing the dog's attention back to him. Hopping up, the Australian Cattle Dog obediently trotted over to his master before plopping down on top of his sneakers.

Flynn Phinbar was a 24-year-old college student. War vet with PTSD, he often brought his service dog, a blue heeler named Perry, to the hospital on visitation days. Sometimes he'd let the calmer residents play with him a bit while Flynn went and brought lunch to Dr. Tenggiri. The two were old friends, evidently, despite the fact that Flynn was about to be in Grad school and Dr. Tenggiri often _taught_ Grad school.

Ferb liked it whenever Flynn came to visit. No matter how busy he was or how little time he had at the hospital, even if it was just to drop off lunch for the doctor before heading off to his next class or work, the young man always made time for the teen. Sometimes Perry had to stay at home, so whenever Flynn came to visit and didn't have the dog with him, Ferb never failed to ask where he was, leaving Flynn practically doubled over in laughter before pulling out his phone and sharing the latest photos he took of the silly creature. Flynn always made sure to stop and see Candace, let her pet the dogs a bit while catching her up on his latest exploits and getting the details about her kids and husband. He'd known Candace's brother before the accident. Had been good friends with both boys and was supposed to have gone on that trip too. He'd had to go to his aunt's wedding at the last minute though and missed it.

Ferb loved everything about him, the sound of his laughter, the way his blue eyes seemed to light up whenever he talked about something he was passionate about. Every emotion he ever had played across his face in a captivating myriad. Flynn was half Scottish with flyaway red hair, rounded features crinkled in a near permanent smile, and cream-colored skin. They'd sit for hours in the common area, or Ferb's room, or the gardens, or wherever they happened to be while Flynn told him stories of growing up in Scotland, how school was going-he was studying to be an engineer-anything and everything he could think of to tell the quiet boy.

Sometimes he'd come in and Ferb could tell it had been a bad day. His hair, normally curly and untamable, would be hanging in limp ringlets around his ears and his normally vibrant and expressive blue eyes would be clouded. On these days, they'd sit together side by side on Ferb's bed, and Flynn would talk about the boys he knew. "Finnegan was always bustling with energy, talking nonstop about the plans he had for the future. He wanted to me a mechanical engineer, build things for anyone and everyone that needed them. Whether they be parts for the NASA space station, tools for underwater welders, or pumps to bring clean water to developing nations, he didn't care and would talk the ear off anyone who'd sit long enough. Then there was Ferdy. Short for Ferdinand, but the only one who ever called him that was his mum. He was a lot like you, Ferb. He was quiet, but he was brilliant. Anything Finnegan could come up with he could draw it up. Schematics, blueprints, scale models you name it. Those 2 could have conquered the world together. 12 years old and they already had their futures planned to the letter. They'd go to the same school, Finnegan would get a Bachelor's degree in mechanical engineering and Ferdy would major in Building Construction and technical design with minors in welding and physics. When they graduated, they'd open their own business." Flynn always got a faraway look in his eyes when he talked about those 2. Like he wasn't seeing the white washed walls of Ferb's room, instead seeing past them and far back into a backyard with 2 best friends and an imagination that could span the universe and still never have enough room.

Today was a good day for Flynn, and the 2 sat there for what felt like hours while the student regaled him with the antics of one of his classmates, a boy who had no business being in a grad level thermodynamics class, who regularly strove to make the professor's life hell by asking ridiculously stupid questions, or giving absurd answers to the questions posed by the teacher. "Just the other day the professor was running review and asked what the first law of thermodynamics was. This kid, he sits in the front of the room every day because he has these absolutely enormous coke bottle glasses, he raises his hand and before the professor even has a chance to ignore him he shouts out 'men will naturally move towards the hottest girl in college!' and all the professor can do is face palm. I swear to you, Ferb a 65-year-old physics professor face palming is the funniest thing you will see in your entire life!" Flynn is still cracking up over the event when his phone beeps.

"Ah bollocks," he grumbles, smile still on his face as he pulls the phone from his pocket. "I gotta go, Ferb. Milly asked for some help on her statistics homework and if I don't leave now I'll never make it on time. The girl may be tiny, but bloody hell is she intimidating." Offering Ferb a sheepish grin, he got to his feet, slung his bag across his shoulders, and bent to collect Perry's leash. "Till next time, Turbo Ferbo. Take care of yourself, don't bite the nurses." Ferb stood to walk him out, giving him a half hug and patting Perry on the head before the young man departed. The last thing he heard was Flynn saying "Come on, ya silly platypus!" to Perry when the dog started lagging behind.

Sticking his head around the doorframe to watch the retreating figures, his attention was caught by a flash of red walking in the direction of the kitchens. Turning, he found himself frozen in place, shudders running down his spine like someone had just dropped an ice cube down his shirt. Or stepped on his grave.

Just down the hall, back to Ferb, was a tall, lanky figure with crimson hair pulled back in a ponytail. He was dressed in white scrubs like the other orderlies, but his feet were clad in a set of combat boots and _those_ were _definitely_ not regulation. Taking a step further into the hall to get a better look, his shoe slipped on a bit of dog drool, squeaking on the white tiles.

The stranger paused mid stride, turning his head to glance behind him. It was a boy, maybe Ferb's age, but his dark eyes looked much older, almost haunted. His angular face was pale, but with an almost sun kissed tint to it, like people who spend a lot of time out in the sun, but their bodies don't produce enough melanin to turn them brown. There was a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose that became visible as he turned to look directly at Ferb. His eyes widened slightly in recognition and his lips parted in what Ferb could only assume was a silent gasp. He looked about ready to turn and run at the boy, but another head further down stuck out around a doorframe. It was a Hispanic girl, maybe a year older with wide blue eyes and dark hair.

"Finn!" She hissed, the call echoing down the suspiciously silent hallway. "Finn, we gotta go! Now!" With one more glance back at Ferb, the redhead turned and quickened his pace, heavy soles echoing until he rounded the corner behind the girl and was gone. Ferb felt his back strike the doorframe as he sagged, letting it support his weight as is gaze remained locked on the spot that once had held a redheaded boy. "Finn..." he breathed, the name feeling familiar on his tongue; soothing, like a cup of his dad's tea on a chilly night, or the scones his grandmother made for holidays. The spot just behind his right ear, a small knot hidden beneath his hair, a spot the nurses had always told him not to touch because he may rip out stitches or reopen old wounds, began to itch...


	6. Chapter Five: Irving

Chapter Five: Irving

One chilly November day, less than a week before Thanksgiving, brought Irving. Just a bit younger than Ferb, Irving was a short, chunky, blond haired boy with thick round glasses and a way of constantly giggling to himself that unsettled Ferb slightly. Admitted with schizophrenia, he was relatively harmless, choosing to sit at a table in the corner drawing crude, childish images of the friends in his head and alternating between giggling to himself and talking to his "friends" about what adventure they were going to have next.

It scared Ferb just how similar the 2 of them were, how close he was to actually being like Irving, rocking in a corner with only the company of the people in his head. He'd kept the redhead stranger and the Hispanic girl to himself during his therapy appointment a couple days after the event, but he could tell Dr. Tenggiri was seeing through him. He didn't push, though. Only reassuring the teen that he could come to him for anything, any time. Ferb had nodded and then allowed himself to be escorted to arts and crafts. He didn't want to end up like Irving, spending his nights in a padded cell under supervision so that he didn't hurt himself.

What really unsettled Ferb about the other boy was the way he'd look at him, like he knew him even though the 2 had never met before his arrival. He'd been kept under supervision the first week after his arrival, being escorted around by a balding blond orderly with a permanently bored expression on his face. But every time he saw Ferb, he'd start giggling, like a child with a secret he doesn't want anyone else to know. He wasn't at all sure why, but that idea unsettled him. Two days before the American made holiday, Ferb found out.

He'd been up before Ginger needed to wake him, pondering Finn's message as he hopped through the shower. The hot water felt wonderful against his tight muscles. They'd built a rock climbing wall out of biodegradable materials. It had been destroyed by a flock of birds. As he was starting to wake up, Finn had turned to him with a smile that had practically glowed. "I saw you, Ferboosh! I actually saw you! You're looking good, a bit thinner. You know you really should eat more. Mom will be mad if you come back and don't fit in your clothes anymore." Ferb wanted to frown, to speak up, say anything. Of course you saw me, he wanted to say, we spent the whole day together... but just as he was about to open his mouth, his eyes opened to the sight of his blank, cookie cutter room. He really should consider a poster or something.

The red numbers on his clock told him he still had almost an hour before Ginger was to bring in his meds, so he'd hopped through the shower, hoping the act of washing his hair could quell the itching sensation he'd felt since that day in the hall. It was like having the chicken pox; not itchy until you thought about it, then turning unbearable and your skin is all but begging you to quell the dancing ants beneath your skin, but you know you're not allowed to scratch. The last time a nurse had seen him reaching for that spot she'd slapped his hand. Not harshly, but with a bit of a warning on her face. "Now, now Ferb, sweetie. We'll have none of that. Can't have you ripping out those stitches again now can we.

He'd finished his shower, toweled off, and dressed for the day in plum colored sweatpants and a white long-sleeved shirt. Then he'd sat back against his headboard with a copy of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep to wait. He'd already read it 5 times, but his selection of reading materials was a bit sparse. He'd have to ask his dad for a few more next time he came. The minutes ticked by while Ferb found himself emerged in post-apocalyptic San Francisco-he'd never been to California, maybe Dad and him could go when he got out-until he was drawn out of it by the knocking on his door. Ginger walked in, a wide grin on her face when she saw him already up and dressed.

"You're up early this morning, Mr. Fletchley! Sleep alright?" Ferb nodded, marking his place with a spare sticky note before accepting the paper cups. He downed his meds, handing the empty vessels back to his nurse before reaching for his shoes. "You look cheerful this morning," he said, glancing up at her from under his emerald bangs. Ginger blushed slightly. "Oh, yes I guess I am. It's just, well... I got engaged yesterday. His name's Benji. I met him through school, and he's a great, great guy." The look in Ginger's eyes when she talked about Benji made Ferb's heart ache in ways he couldn't name. "Congratulations," he told her, smiling softly. "You're going to make a radiant bride."

An hour later found him talking to Isabella Guadalupe, a petite, elderly Hispanic woman who worked as a maid for the hospital, coming in to collect laundry, change bedsheets, and occasionally help serve meals if the kitchen was understaffed like it was today. Ms. Isa didn't speak much English, but she was kind and grandmotherly, always offering him a smile and slipping him a peppermint sweet or butterscotch disk from deep in the pockets of her smock whenever no one was looking.

She'd brought him out his breakfast, a bowl of oatmeal with a banana and blueberry smile on top, and was telling him about one of her many grandchildren when Irving came running up from out of nowhere, half dressed with his glasses hanging off one ear and a wide, slightly manic grin on his face. "There you are!" He shouted, leaning over the table and giggling hysterically. "Where's your brother? He's supposed to be around here somewhere too isn't he? What are you gonna make today, huh? Soup? Robotic cattle? A hot air balloon to Jupiter? Nah those things are boring! Where's Phelps? He'd know what to do today! You're not the idea man, you're the man of action, Frank Guy with his faithful Sidekick Perry the Platypus and partner Multi Man!" As the shorter boy talked, he'd moved around the table until he was practically on top of Ferb, in his face and getting closer, closer, too close. Practically crawling into his lap with eyes that were completely devoid of sanity.

"I've got a lock of your hair," he stage whispers conspiratorially, reaching out a hand toward Ferb's head. "In my UPAFS! I've got a lock of your hair, but I had to leave it at home when I came here. The doctor told me I could make another one though. Isn't that great? I can document you and your brother all over again!" He twined a lock of hair around his finger, giggling and practically drooling with excitement. He was close, too close. Where were the orderlies? Why wasn't anyone helping him? Too close, too close, TOOCLOSE!

Ferb snapped. Shoving back from the table, the back legs stuck on the tiles and he went careening backward, head narrowly missing the corner of a coffee table as he went crashing down, but Irving was still there, leaning over him. Why wouldn't he go away? Scrambling unsteadily to his feet, he shoved the boy away and ran, struggling to gain purchase on the freshly mopped floor as he ping ponged down the hall searching for somewhere to hide, to get away from the giggling boy with crazed blue eyes. He was on the wrong side of the building to be able to hide back in his room, but Irving knew his room. He could find him there. Up ahead, desperate eyes landed on a small brown door at the end of the hall, the label on it reading Linens. It was Ms. Isa's linen cupboard.

Yanking open the door and nearly having a panic attack when it had stuck a bit before coming free, he threw himself into the small dark space that smelled heavily of laundry detergent, pulling the door behind him. It didn't lock, so he crammed himself in between two racks in the farthest corner from the door, clutching his knees to his chest. He was shaking, heart beating way too fast, and the itching behind his ear was turning unbearable. Unable to handle it anymore, he banged the side of his head against the edge of the nearest rack. Pain lanced through his skull from the impact, temporarily overshadowing the itching before it came back again full force, so he did it again. And again, and again until he managed to hit just the right spot. He gasped out in pain as it lanced through his skull, temporarily whiting out his vision, but the itching had stopped, for now at least.

He didn't know how long he sat there in the dark, breathing in the smell of fresh laundry in the quiet, peaceful darkness of the cupboard. He could feel his heart rate beginning to slow as he concentrated on pulling deep breaths into his lungs. There was a warm stickiness behind his ear, but he didn't dare reach up and touch it. He'd probably torn his stitches. Oops. He lost track of time in there, legs and tailbone beginning to go numb, but he didn't dare move. He didn't want to. It was peaceful in here. He felt himself beginning to doze. Then the space was flooded with light, leaving him blinking owlishly at the 2 figures in the doorway.

The idea to panic flickered briefly across his mind, but he pushed it away. Neither of the silhouettes matched Irving's. "Mr. Fletchley? Mr. Fletchley it's Ginger. I've got Buford with me, we're going to take you back to your room, okay?" The young woman eased her way into the cupboard and crouched in front of Ferb. "There we are, Mr. Fletchley," she said with a reassuring smile. It faded, however, as she took in the side of his head, and the dark stains that must be crusting on the sheets and metal rack. The clean sheets. Ms. Isa would have to wash them again. "Oh, Ferb, sweetie, what have you gone and done to yourself." Resting a reassuring hand on his knee, she leaned back to look at Buford. "Buford, can you radio Gretchen for me? Ask her to bring a kit to Mr. Fletchley's room. We'll meet her there." Turning back to Ferb, she slid an arm under his elbow, gently helping him to his feet and steadying him when his legs threatened not to support him.

Getting him out of the cupboard, she let Buford take his weight and they started back for his room slowly, the black man gently supporting his weight whenever his legs decided to betray him. Ginger was apologizing profusely. "I'm so sorry about what happened with Irving. Alfred had been supposed to be getting him dressed and watching him, but he'd gotten called out to help with someone else and Irving made a break for it. We think it was your hair. One of his hallucinations, a boy named Frank. He has green hair just like yours, and he's got a brother. Together the 2 regularly break the laws of physics and he documents it. That's what all his drawings are for. He's rebuilding the scrapbook he'd had to leave behind when he was admitted." By that point they'd reached Ferb's room.

The nurse in orange scrubs was waiting when they arrived, white first aid kit in hand. Buford lowered Ferb to the bed before stepping back into the doorway where he could keep an eye on things in case he was needed, but was out of the way for the young ladies to work. Snapping on a pair of gloves, Ginger tilted Ferb's head to the side so that she could better examine the wound, accepting the wet wipe from Gretchen as she cleaned the area, prodding with gentle fingers. "Well, Mr. Fletchley, doesn't look like you'll need new stitches. Skin's broken in a few areas and it'll be tender, but you'll be fine. I'm going to put this bandage over it until it can scab over. Want to tell me what happened?" Ferb remained silent. She wouldn't understand anyway.


	7. Chapter Six: The Present

Chapter Six: The Present

"Nice hat, Ferbo!" Flynn was standing there when he looked up, big grin on his face. He'd been curled on a couch in the common room watching a show about a time traveling alien and hadn't heard him approach. Gaze dropping briefly to knee level before returning to the blue stare, he returned the grin with a small curl of the lips. "Where's Perry?" Flynn tossed his head back with a laugh before collapsing onto the couch next to him. "Milly took him to the vet for me. He's due for shots and I had a class at the time. I'm meeting her for lunch to get him back before she sues for custody rights. So, gonna tell me about the new addition?" Reaching out a hand, he tweaked the top of the orange and white beanie Ferb wore pulled low over his ears.

"Complicated," he muttered, touching the soft material self-consciously. Day after the Irving Incident, he'd refused to leave his room until he was sure the other boy wasn't going to be around. Even when he had, he'd insisted on wearing a hooded jacket. He wasn't risking the now unfortunate color of his hair setting him off again. By the next morning, there was an orange and white handmade beanie waiting for him on his dresser.

"So, what episode are we on?" At Ferb's surprised glance, Flynn let out a dramatically affronted gasp. "What's with the surprise! I'm Scottish! It's nearly required we like this show! This and Harry Potter, though that's more a your part of the continent thing. So, what episode are we watching?" Ferb motioned to the screen just in time to watch a woman in a tattered Victorian era ball gown, her messy dark hair piled up on top of her head bobbing as she ran at skinny man in a tweed jacket, babbling incoherently. Flynn grinned. "Ah, The Doctor's Wife. Not a bad episode. I pity the Ood more than anything. What do you think?" Ferb shrugged. Personally, he thought the Rory that House created to torment Amy was a bit out of character, but the plot line was decent enough.

The 2 sat in pleasant silence for a while, just enjoying one another's company and the adventure playing out on the screen in front of them. But just around the time Amy and Rory were being chased by Nephew, a familiar short figure was escorted into the room and over to a secluded table. Ferb froze and tried to make himself smaller. The figure never even glanced in his direction. When Ferb finally felt comfortable enough to relax, House had been expelled, the woman was dying, and Flynn was looking at him with something akin to understanding in his eyes. "That the reason for the hat?" He asked, voice pitched low for just the 2 of them to hear. Ferb nodded, attention darting to the corner before returning to the young man next to him. To his immense relief, the blond boy seemed perfectly content to focus on his coloring. He didn't even glance up.

Flynn reached out, giving Ferb's ankle a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry, he tries anything, I'll protect you." Ferb grinned, warmth flooding through his body from the point of contact, making him feel safe, cared for. Flynn had a way of making those feelings rise in him, even with something as simple as a look. He was his best friend in this place, and oddly, he was grateful for being admitted into this place because it meant he'd met Flynn, even if he couldn't remember why he'd been admitted in the first place. "Oh! Yeah! Nearly forgot, I brought you something!" Letting go of his ankle, Flynn reached for the bag he'd dropped to the floor when he sat down.

Ferb instantly missed the familiar warmth and weight-how it was familiar he couldn't quite recall, but it was-but the idea that the other had brought something for him filled him with more excitement than he'd felt in a long time. "Should I close my eyes?" he asked with a grin. "If you want." Ferb closed his eyes and held out his hands, feeling a bit silly, but also the excitement of a child about to get an unexpected surprise. What felt like forever later, he felt a weight resting on his hand. Cracking open his eyes, his breath left him in a chuckle. The rectangular package on his hands was small, not too heavy, and wrapped in Christmas paper featuring woodland creatures in holiday sweaters. It was quite possibly the worst holiday paper he'd ever seen.

"Go on then, open it!" Meeting the blue gaze twinkling with mischief, he tore into the paper parcel. Isaac Asimov's I, Robot stared up at him from his open palms. "I may have noticed your slight enjoyment of science fiction. Consider it an early Christmas present." Ferb didn't know what to say. He'd never really gotten a Christmas present from anyone outside his family before. "But... I... I didn't get you anything, and you won't likely be back again until after Christmas because of finals, and you were going to go visit your family for the holiday, and-" Ferb felt himself starting to hyperventilate when those blue, blue eyes got closer and warm hands landed on his shoulders, squeezing lightly.

"Woah, hey, hey. It's okay... it's okay... You don't have to get me anything! Honest, I'm not expecting it anyway. I had just figured you could use something fresh to read, what with everyone of interest being gone for the holidays. I hear Ginge is taking 2 weeks to go back to Korea to visit her grandparents, Buford is traveling to Louisiana to visit his dad before meeting up with Bridget on whatever continent she finds herself, and even Isabella is going to see her grandchildren back in Mexico, just in time for the last night of Hanukkah too. So you'll be stuck alone with the skeleton crews for a few weeks. Figured you'll need something to keep you sane."

Ferb had regained his composure while the young man talked, and was choking back a laugh. Dropping the book onto his lap, he lunged forward, wrapping the redhead in as tight a hug he could manage. He'd taken him surprised, that much was clear by the slight stiffness, but he didn't push the teen away. Instead he wrapped his strong arms around the narrow form, holding on tight. "Happy almost Christmas, Ferb Fletchley," he muttered into his hair. Ferb grinned, feeling tears burning behind his eyes. "Happy almost Christmas, Flynn Phinbar."


	8. Chapter Seven: Breaking Free

Chapter Seven: Breaking Free

It was Christmas Eve for everyone in the hospital, but in Ferb's dream, it was the middle of summer, and they were about to make the city a more interesting place. Finn had the schematics spread out on a work table in the middle of the yard and all around them were stacks of supplies and building materials. Ferb sat under the tree with nuts, bolts, and miscellaneous bits of wire scattered around him while he tinkered, waiting on the other boy to set him off on a task.

He knew the sounds of construction were going on all around him, beeping trucks as they backed up to unload their materials, his friends shouting to one another to be heard over the din, but to Ferb it seemed like he was hearing it all from underwater. It was muffled, half processed. The only thing cutting through cleanly was the sound of Finn humming to himself as he made side-noted calculations on the blue paper. "Floor after floor, well we know what's in store... Hey Ferb, what do you think we should do with the 23rd floor? Buford suggested a food court, but Baljeet suggested subletting, let it gain popularity as practical as well as just touristy and interesting. Part of me leans for the food court, but I worry about it being so soon after the M.C. Escher floor that no one will be hungry, or they may lose their lunch when we hit the last floor in atmosphere."

Ferb was about to reply that the food court sounded better than subletting it out as office cubicles, but just as he went to open his mouth one of the Fireside girls ran in, the petite, blonde one who didn't really talk much. She looked excited, leaning close to whisper something Ferb couldn't hear to the redhead. The boy's mouth dropped in shock for a brief moment before splitting his cheeks in a wide, painful looking grin. "Thanks, Katie," he told the girl, dropping his pencil and rushing around the table to Ferb. "Found you, Ferboosh!" he whispered, eyes suspiciously damp. "We did it, we found you! We finally found you!" he reached out, hand hovering mere centimeters from Ferb's face before he let it drop, breath leaving him in a wet chuckle. "We'll be there soon, buddy. See you in a few..."

The backyard swam before his eyes, growing blurry and dim, not unlike the way it did when he was waking up in the mornings, but it was too soon. He'd only just gotten there. What was going on? With a tilting jolt, everything lost focus. Last to go was Finn's angular face, still smiling triumphantly while moisture slid down his cheeks. "See you in a few..." and then he was being shaken awake; gently, but with a sense of urgency behind it.

Blinking sleepily until his eyes could focus, he found himself staring into a pair of bright, intelligent eyes framed by pale lashes and wispy strands of vibrantly red hair. "Flynn?" he muttered, but sleep-clogged vocal cords muffled it until it came out sounding more like "Fnnm?" But what was Flynn doing there? He was supposed to be in Scotland visiting his grandparents. Why was he here so late? Or early, he couldn't see his clock, but it was dark out and that's what mattered. And what was wrong with his eyes? Now that he was starting to clear the sleep from his eyes, he realized that the face leaning close-while similar at first glance-was not his Scottish friend.

Where Flynn was all rounded features with neat-if a little long-hair, deep blue eyes, and skin the color of fresh cream (Gretchen's words not his), the boy crouched next to his bed was all sharp angles with shaggy, crimson colored hair pulled back in a low ponytail save for the flyaway bits that had escaped, dark eyes that shone with hidden mischief and a thousand and ideas, though dark shadows marred the delicate skin beneath them, and the kind of sun kissed skin of a person who didn't have enough melanin to compete with the amount of time they spent out in the sun.

If the smattering of darkened freckles across his long, pointed nose was anything to go by, this boy spent a lot of time out under the sun. His full lips were chapped, bearing the shadows of bite marks-something he'd become quite familiar with as he regularly came into contact with residents suffering from oral fixations during his group therapy sessions.

Those dry, pale lips curved into a relieved smile when he saw that Ferb was blinking up at him. "Hey, sleepy head," he whispered, reaching out to card thin, calloused fingers through Ferb's emerald hair, scratching slightly at that spot just behind his ear, the spot he'd already busted once that he could remember, the spot the nurses repeatedly told him not to touch no matter how bad it itched. Ferb's first instinct was to slap the hand away and get away from the stranger touching him, expecting pain on the still often raw flesh. The doctors would be angry if he reopened the wounds and risked infection, but instead he found himself leaning into the sensation.

It was having a bothersome itch in a place you couldn't reach and it's driving you nuts, and then someone comes along and hits just the right place on the first try and you feel like you're going to collapse in relief. He felt his eyes starting to drift shut again. He didn't care who this stranger was, or what he was doing in his room, just so long as he didn't stop. There was a soft chuckle. "Whoa there, Ferboosh. I need you to keep those pretty brown eyes open for me, okay?" The stranger gave his skull one last rub before withdrawing his hand.

Ferb could have cried, unable to stop the soft whimper at the loss of contact because the itching had returned full force, like a colony of ants had taken up residence in his hair and mated with some kind of mutant strain of head lice. He blinked open damp eyes, hoping the look on his face conveyed the level of betrayal he was feeling. "Hey, hey. It's okay. We gotta get you out of here and then we'll take care of that itching. I promise." Rising to his feet, he leaned over to retrieve Ferb's shoes from the footlocker before pulling a coat and change of pants from the wardrobe. He seemed to know his way around Ferb's room, which wasn't saying much in the 9x11 space, but it did make him wonder briefly how long he'd been there, and how he'd gotten in.

They had a 24-hour guard at the front desk and visitors were supposed to show photo ID during sign in, not to mention the two layers of 3-inch-thick glass with sliding doors only accessible through a passcode the guard had to type in, and only one set would open at a time. Sometimes the orderlies would joke that they had more security than most prisons. Sitting up, Ferb took his first good look at the stranger. He was dressed all in black with what looked like a military grade utility belt hanging from narrow hips. A pair of goggles hung around a thin neck and a bulky, heavy duty looking watch hugged his wrist. Ferb was half expecting to see camouflage paint on his face and a sidearm strapped to his thigh. Despite the look, though, the boy was thin as a rake. Couldn't have been more than 120 pounds soaking wet. There was no way this kid could have taken out the 300-pound ex-linebacker that always took night shift.

Looking past him, he saw that the door to his room was open; a lithe, feminine figure standing guard. "Come on, buddy, up and attem. We gotta get you in some different pants." Ferb dropped his gaze to his legs, about to ask what was wrong with the sweats he was wearing when he realized his last pair of clean sweatpants had gone into the hamper yesterday. He'd been stuck with wearing an old threadbare pair of purple pajama pants covered in rubber ducks and wrenches. They'd been a well-meaning birthday present from his grandparents several years prior.

He blushed, looking back up as the redhead approached him, gently pulling him to his feet before letting his hands drop to hover just over his waist. "Do you need some help? Or do you want to get changed by yourself?" Ferb spared another glance at the girl guarding the door, feeling his cheeks heat up a bit more, but she kept her back to them, one hand on her ear as she whispered to someone he couldn't see. Feeling an odd flash of embarrassment before realizing how silly it was as more than one female nurse had helped him change at one point or another, several even going so far as to accidentally walk in on him while he was showering during his first few months living at the hospital, he nodded his response to the boy waiting patiently. Sticking his thumbs through the drawstring waistband, he pushed them down past his hips to drop to the floor before stepping out of them, letting strong, sure hands steady him as he stepped directly into the jeans offered out for him.

He'd just sat back on the bed, pulling the warm black jacket the stranger had pulled off and offered on over his long sleeved white shirt while the other had knelt back down to slip the issued shoes over Ferb's feet when the dark-haired sentry finally turned back to face the occupants of the room. Ferb had been watching the top of the crimson head, the weird familiarity of it tickling the back of his mind when his attention was drawn by a pitched, accented voice. "Phin, that was Gretchen. We gotta get going." Gretchen? Did they know his backup nurse? He thought she'd gone to Florida to escape the winter with her sorority sisters.

The boy, Phin, nodded, tugging the last shoe over Ferb's sock clad foot and bouncing upright. "Thanks, Izzy. I think we're good to go. You ready Ferb?" Ferb stared up at the stranger. A redhead named Phin? With a dark-haired companion named Izzy? It was almost like something out of Doctor Who... Feelings he couldn't name were bubbling up inside of him, bringing with them memories of roller coasters and robotic dogs, giant tire swings and pop stars and the scent of motor oil and grease and something that distinctly reminded him of home, though it couldn't have been any home he knew. His home was miles away and smelled of plaster dust and ancient cardboard and emptiness, nothing like the warmth these images were bringing forward.

Very slowly, eyes never leaving that eager face, he shook his head. "I can't... I don't even... Who are you people?" His voice came out croaked, raw and painful like he'd been screaming for hours around broken shards of glass. He didn't realize he'd started crying until a warm hand covered in calluses cupped his cheek, thumb brushing away the tears that were leaking down his face.

Phin was kneeling in front of him, one hand against his face the other applying steady pressure to his knee, rubbing soothing circles through his well-worn jeans. Phin, like the boy who haunted his dreams; like a shortening for Finnegan, the brother Candace lost all those years ago, nearly like Flynn; Flynn who came to see him every chance he got and tell him about the outside world moving faster than he had hope of catching up with. The boy was talking, soothing tenor drawing him back from the precipice his mind had been slipping toward.

"It's me, Ferb. It's Phineas. Remember all our inventions? The time we created S'Winter, or our family trip to Hawaii? We've been trying to find you for a while now, sending you messages once we managed to figure out how. Did you get my messages, Ferb? I guess it would have been sometime while you were sleeping, easier to get inside that glorious cerebral cortex of yours when it's not processing five hundred things at once." The affection he saw on the other boy's face was too much. What was he talking about? How did he know about his dreams?

Ferb closed his eyes, feeling both overwhelmed and comforted by the familiar contact. Familiar how, though? No one he knew ever touched him like that, so why did it feel so familiar? Why did he crave it, like it was a drug he received daily but then it had been taken away from him, made inaccessible and all but wiped from his memory until he'd been given his dosage back?

His dreams, building impossible things with a brother who didn't exist and trying to make every day of a long-gone summer count, the way they always seemed to end with this angular redhead looking so sad, but so hopeful at the same time; something that never seemed to fit in with the cheery atmosphere of the rest of the dream. In the darkness of his closed eyelids, something inside him seemed to shift just slightly, like a stuck door starting to budge. He reached out mentally to give it an experimental tug, knowing something important was waiting just behind it and if he could just get it open then it would all make sense again, but the door wouldn't budge and the more he pulled the more the itching intensified until it was nearly painful in its unbearability.

Just when he felt he was going to cry out in frustration, every muscle burning to yank open the door and see what was being kept from him, he felt a soft pressure against his lips, a nose bumping against his in a well-practiced but chaste motion, and suddenly the door was flying open and he was left reeling in the onslaught of memories and sensations of another life, of a bright creative red-headed stepbrother and the fun they had summer after summer, and a closer relationship that spawned between them as they got older and began to understand the meaning of things like they were a physical blow.

He pulled back from the kiss, desperately trying to shut the door on the flood, but it was too strong, the tide threatening to pull him under and drown him as they sought out the false memories in his head in a mission to replace them with the proper ones. He was sure the only thing keeping him from collapsing back onto the bed or sliding to the floor were the warm, now recognizably familiar hands of his Phineas as they wrapped him in a grounding hug. "Phin..." he choked out, tears soaking through the black shirt his face had come to be buried in. "Phin... what happened to me? What am I doing here? It feels so real, Phin...why couldn't I remember you?"

Small details had started making sense, like how he could never quite seem to remember just how he came to be a resident here, but what exactly had happened? Hot breath whispered past his ear, ruffling the soft strands of baby hair and bringing with it a second tide of memories, light breezes on summer days and sleepy breaths curled up late at night, secrets just between the 2 of them followed by conspiratorial winks and smiles as plans came together. "Welcome back sweetheart," Phineas whispered, rubbing his back. "What happened?" Ferb repeated, pulling back to meet the gaze that could pierce his soul in a blink but now looked haunted and empty. Phineas looked away.

"It's all my fault, he said, voice hoarse. "Someone from the second dimension, Rodger something or the other, I don't know how but he got across to our dimension. We'd been working on a new invention, turning dreams into controllable reality or something, hell if I can remember why at this point. I'm sure Irving or Baljeet is to blame, but unimportant. Something went wrong. You'd had this dream you wanted to try and recreate for the rest of us and we'd strapped you in, but then it all started glitching and you-" the end of the sentence was choked off in an aborted sob. "Jeez, Ferb. I thought we'd lost you. You were strapped in and it was working great, but then it all just started to spark and smoke and there was this explosion and when it all cleared away, you were gone."

Phineas practically lunged back into his arms, gripping his waist as tight as he could, like he was afraid if he loosened the grip at all Ferb would vanish all over again. The older boy ran a hand through the thick red hair that was coming loose from its tie, tugging the lost cause off and letting Phineas's hair curtain down around his narrow shoulders, relishing in the feel of the silky strands beneath his fingertips. He'd address the need for a possible trim later, but now was a time for other discussions.

"But how did I end up in this place?" he asked, free hand gesturing around the room for no particular person's benefit. "None of the nurses or doctors would ever give me a straight answer about how I got here, only saying that I'd lost someone in an accident and tried to kill myself." Ferb felt the boy in his arms tense violently and he immediately regretted adding that last part. "Don't you get it, Ferb?" the girl by the door spoke up, leaning back into the doorframe so she could face him while still keeping an eye on the hallway. Head still reeling but memories unclouded, he instantly recognized the girl who'd grown up across the street from them and coming over every day to see what they were up to.

Her thick black hair was pulled back from her face in a French braid and her apparel was similar to Phineas's, -black skinny jeans paired with combat boots and a form fitting long sleeved black shirt. "None of this was real, just a suggested figment meant to lure you in with the tangibility, or at least that's what Alternate Baljeet described it as. All of this was created by that Second-Dimension villain." Ferb looked around the room he'd spent nearly 2 years in. Had it really been that long? Could time have been addled along with his memories? Phineas and Isabella didn't look any older physically, but could it have really been 2 years since he disappeared from their backyard? And why a mental hospital of all the places for this Rodger to make him believe he was in? He looked from the redhead in his arms to the girl he'd known since moving to America. "If this is all in my head, then how'd you two get here? Am I just imagining that you both showed up to do an old-fashioned prison break?"

The girl gave him a soft smile. "We found his lair. We've been keeping a constant portal between our dimension and the Other dimension for easier communications, but even with twice the greatest minds working on it, plus the extra resources the Firestorm girls had, it took us almost two months to track you down-"

"Two months?" Ferb interrupted, a small spark of anger growing in his chest even as he tried to tamp it down. "Isabella, I've been here for almost two years. Did it take you that long to realize I was still alive?" The look on Isabella's face was one of shock and Phineas shuddered under his arms, whimpering as though in pain and Ferb had to fight the uncharacteristic urge to shove him away. 22 months where they weren't even looking for him. 22 months of him who knows where being subjected to figments of his imagination dosing him regularly with pills and forcing him into therapy sessions.

"Ferb," Isabella whispered, hands held up slightly in a gesture meant to calm him. "Ferb, it's only been a couple months since the invention went wrong and you disappeared. It took almost a month for us to realize you weren't dead but when we got that message from Other Candace we were building a portal setup and using every resource we could think of." 2 months, not 22... But how was this possible? "But... it's Christmas Eve..." Isabella shook her head, lips curving in a watery smile though no tears fell. "No Ferb, it's September. We were supposed to start school a week ago." The green haired boy took in the information, processed it, then chuckled. "Oh... well, merry Christmas to me, then. What happened after you got in touch with the other dimension?"

"Well we searched and searched and finally got a reading on your biorhythmic signature, so Other Baljeet had found a way to track your brainwaves so that we could send you messages, let you know we hadn't forgotten about you. Then about two days ago we found it. Firestorm Katie had managed to trace the readings we were receiving to some warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Some guy named Carl let us use his company helicopter and we found you, Ferb! I guess Rodger was pretty confident that we thought you were dead because there were only a couple at the main gate that Other Candace took out with her bow staff and we were in. You're strapped to a metal table and hooked to wires going off in all different directions while they measure everything from vitals to brainwaves. It looks like they've been studying you like some sort of specimen for experimentation. We've been here a few hours, trying to figure out how to let you know we were here and get you out. To get me and Phineas into your head we rebuilt the Mind Machine to tap into your subconscious. They're working on getting the wires detached at this time, but Other Gretchen says that more guards are on the way. We need to go NOW, Phineas."

The redhead in question had been uncharacteristically quiet, letting Isabella do all the explaining. However, when he heard the order he nodded, releasing his grip on Ferb's waist and standing, pulling the taller boy up with him. Ferb could immediately see why he'd been so quiet. His stepbrother looked wrecked. His eyes were red rimmed and looked like he hadn't slept in a week, the mask he'd erected evidently having slipped, but his face was dry and determine shone through the clouds of pain and exhaustion. "She say how far out they are?" he asked, voice hoarse.

"No clue. The alarms went off about 2 minutes ago but they've tapped into the security cameras and they don't see anyone coming. The Firestorm Girls are holding sentry to give us a bit more time but we don't know how much more so we need to move." Phineas nodded, eyes not leaving Ferb's face like he was trying to memorize every square inch. The silent question of are you ready echoed between them, and Ferb smiled, giving his hand a squeeze and relishing in the familiarity of it. He'd missed this. "Let's go home."

With those three words the teens were off, bolting into the corridor and in the direction of the front doors. Ferb had expected to see the skeleton crew nurses and orderlies doing their nightly rounds as he'd often seen them through the window on his door, but save for the sound of their breathing and the tapping of their shoes on the linoleum, the hallway was completely silent. Seeming to sense his confusion, Isabella spared him a glance over her shoulder from her place in the lead. "The suggestion is shutting down. Your brain is rejecting what it's trying to be offered and you're waking up. Everything created is getting lost in the data.

Ferb nodded in half understanding, realizing they were crossing through the common room. They were nearly to the check in desk! Nearly free! Just as that thought crossed his mind there was a shout from somewhere behind them. Startled, they froze and spun around to see a tall Indian man standing in the hall they'd just left. Dr. Tenggiri looked as though he'd just run a marathon. His neat hair was a mess of tangles and sticking out strands and his eyes seemed to blaze in fury, though Ferb couldn't begin to understand what the anger could have been caused by. Wasn't he supposed to be in India visiting his parents?

"Mr. Fletchley, where do you think you are going?" Phineas looked confused. "Fletchley? Ferb, who is that? I thought all the interactives had been disabled." Dr. Tenggiri glanced at the redhead before turning his angry gaze back on Ferb. "Mr. Fletchley, you will return to your room right now, or I will call security to escort you and you will be restrained. You are not well, Ferb, and you need help. These delusions must be stopped if you have any hope in rejoining the outside world in the next ten years." The doctor's voice was surprisingly calm, the way it usually was when he talked to Ferb, but this time it didn't sit right the way it usually did.

Dr. Tenggiri's voice usually had a way of making him feel comfortable in his office, like he was safe to share whatever he needed to, but not this time. This time it seemed to drip poison and mockery, like he was belittling Ferb for being in such a place, like Ferb had a problem and he didn't realize it, and only the doctor could fix him. Only he wasn't broken. For the 1st time in 2 months, he was completely whole with his other half standing next to him with an incredulous look on his face and a tight grip on his hand.

"We don't have time for this," Phineas spoke up, breaking the silence that had fallen at the Indian doctor's words. "I don't know who you are, sir, but you aren't real and he is not going with you! He doesn't need to be locked up and strapped down and drugged out of his mind. He needs to be home where he belongs and the people who love him can take care of him and he can be himself. Come on, guys. We need to get out of here." The expression on the doctor's face never changed as Phineas tugged them and they turned back down the hall, but as they started walking they heard his footsteps following. When they sped up he did too.

Ferb spared a glance back and felt a bolt of fear run through him. The doctor was following them at a fast pace, not exactly running but seeming to move much faster than he should be able to, and there was a large knife in his hand. Where it'd come from Ferb had no idea because it had not been in his hand earlier. Facing forward again, he felt a wave of vertigo as the hallway ahead of him suddenly seemed to stretch and pulse, the glass doors that signaled their freedom now miles away instead of yards. Sensing his distress, Phineas squeezed his hand hard. "It's okay, Ferboosh. It's just the machine trying to keep you here. It's programming. We're almost there though. It's not nearly that far and we'll be back in the real world before you know it."

Ferb nodded, focusing on keeping pace with the 2 dark clad figures. Just an illusion. Few more feet and we'll be home. Home... Just as that thought crossed his mind, bringing with it a warm, fuzzy, glowing feeling, the itching behind his ear-which had grown steadily more annoying since they'd left his room-suddenly became a pickaxe driving through the soft tissue of his brain.

He cried out, letting go of Phineas as he collapsed to the cold floor when his knees would no longer support him, hands coming up to clasp the sides of his head in an attempt to keep them from splitting open like an overripe fruit and splattering all over the pristine white walls. "Ferb!" Phineas cried out, kneeling next to him and gently trying to move his hand away from the side of his head. "Ferb, let me see." His voice was soft but filled with concern as the younger boy pried his fingers away, calloused ones taking their place and gently parting the sweaty green strands. "Izzy, we gotta get him out of here. It's the transmitter. There must have been some sort of failsafe built in. We gotta get him to Other Baljeet." Transmitter? What was he talking about? Ferb's entire mind was a piñata doused in butane.

Sliding an arm behind his back and another under his knees, Phineas carefully hoisted the older boy into his arms. "I'm sorry, Ferboosh, this isn't going to be very pleasant, but I promise you'll feel better soon. We're gonna take care of you. I'm gonna take care of you. I promise. Just hold on a little longer." Phineas kept his voice soft and soothing as he started moving again as quickly as he could without jarring his precious cargo too much. Even with the extra care, though, the pain was beginning to make Ferb nauseous and he prayed to whoever was listening that he wouldn't throw up on Phineas. From somewhere behind him, maniacal laughter that sounded a lot like Dr. Tenggiri echoed down the hall in their wake.

The pain intensified the closer they came to the doors until it whited out his vision completely. He was lost in the never-ending hospital corridor. He closed his eyes, hoping the dark would ease the pain and rolling of his stomach. There was a comforting squeeze on the shoulder, and then he knew no more.

A/N: Wow this one's a long one. Sorry for that! I just got really excited! *girlish squeals*


	9. Chapter Eight: Waking Up

Chapter 8: Waking Up

It was fuzzy sensations: muffled shouts, tight embraces, oddly distant sensations of pain followed by not so distant soft touches.

When Ferb opened his eyes, it was to a sky-blue ceiling with stationary clouds and a familiar warm weight on his chest, with another smaller one pressed against his leg. Smiling to himself, he glanced down at the mop of red hair on his chest while mentally taking stock of his body. There was a tightness around his head, like a hat a size too snug, and one around his chest, but other than that he felt fine. Raising the hand not held captive beneath a warm body, he felt along his hairline to discover a stiff but soft bandage wrapped around it. Did I hurt myself? He wondered, tracing the bandage around to a small bulge just behind his right ear.

Phantom insects raced along under the bandage like roaches when exposed to light and he gave the now itching site an experimental prod, sucking in a pained breath as raw nerves sent their signals racing through his brain. The inhalation jarred his chest, startling awake the redheaded weight using it as a pillow. Ferb froze as the other boy blinked up at him sleepily. "Fer...?" he mumbled, wide yawn temporarily splitting his features. He hid it against the other boy's chest, hot breath soaking through the night shirt before looking back up at him with eyes that were slightly more awake, but not by much. It made the older teen wonder just how long it had been since his brother had gotten some real sleep in a real bed.

"Good morning," he said, offering a sheepish smile. Phineas frowned in soft confusion, eyes scanning the other's face before traveling up his arm to where his hand still rested against the bandage. "What are you doing?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. Ferb let his hand drop and his gaze shift toward the other end of the room. "What happened to my head?" The confusion on Phineas's face melted into a pained expression as he stared at the pristine white bandage. Ferb was really getting tired of seeing that look on his brother's face. "Do you remember the mental institution? When we found you and had to run?" He waited until Ferb nodded before continuing.

"The delusion was generated by a neural transmitter. It taps into the brainstem and cerebral cortex to transmit the dream state through the rest of the brain, tricking it into thinking what it's receiving is reality. You forget what's actually real because it muddles the signals, creates false memories meant to feed the story and alters existing ones while blocking the pathways that lead to the real memories that can prove it false. That's why you wouldn't have been able to remember what led you to being in the place. The brain couldn't come up with a viable reason so it left it blank. It also explains the itching feeling. The transmitter was poorly made and the electrical impulses it sent also corroded the casing. It also meant that the corroding metal fused with the skin, embedding itself in a way and making it harder to remove."

Ferb nodded along in donning understanding. "The nurses would always tell me not to scratch because I might rip my stitches, but I could never remember having had a surgery or injury that would have led to the need for stitches. I always just assumed I'd hit my head on something and couldn't remember." Phineas nodded, gaze dropping to the buttons of Ferb's night shirt.

"Yeah, that's the built in suggestive properties to try and help your brain cope with the missing information while also keeping you from irritating the space. Other Baljeet said he could remove it when we discovered it but first we had to get you to reject the dream state. What we hadn't known was that it had a failsafe in case of tampering. Almost like a self-destruct button. It... it re-released a..." Phineas broke off to take a shaky breath. "It released an acid akin to battery acid meant to burn a hole through the skin and into the bone while also redirecting the signals to the thalamus and cerebral cortex." Phineas met his gaze, tears tracking down his slender face as he fought to regain his composure. "We almost lost you, Ferb. Just a minute or two more and the damage would have been irreparable. You were almost gone before you'd even gotten back."

The redhead's voice broke at the end of his sentence and he let his head drop, sleep-tangled hair curtaining his face from view. The crimson strands couldn't muffle sound though, and Ferb could hear him desperately trying to keep back his sobs. That was his Phin, always trying to be the strong one. Soft smile curving his lips, he reached out and pushed aside the vibrant curtain, tilting the quivering chin until he was looking into a set of damp, dark pools. "You didn't lose me, Phin," he assured, accent coming out thick, "I'm still here and I'm alright. I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to be strong all the time, sweetheart."

The bandage around his chest pulling slightly-he decided he'd bring it up later- as Ferb leaned up to lightly peck the warm, flushed forehead, and with a broken cry Phineas surged forward, arms wrapping around the emerald haired boy's neck, fingers tangling in the strands at the nape as he sobbed into the purple pajama top. All Ferb could do was alternate between rubbing his back and running his fingers through those candy apple colored locks, softly shushing and reassuring him until the labored breathing tapered out and he was asleep again. Feeling much more awake than he thought he should, Ferb lay there absentmindedly drawing patterns on Phineas's back. Distantly he processed the fact that the sleeping boy was still wearing the black shirt from the mission, but must have shed the jeans before climbing into bed.

Shifting just enough to sit up against his pillow while still keeping his occupant comfortable on his chest, he looked down toward his feet to see a pair of surprisingly (though maybe not to him) intelligent brown eyes gazing up at him over an orange bill. "Hey, there you are, Perry..." he whispered with a smile, images of a similarly named Aussie cattle dog running through his mind. Australian natives, the both of them. No wonder his brain had chosen the dog as a substitute for his platypus. The monotreme seemed to smile back, rolling onto his side to be closer to the lump in the blanket that was his oldest boy's legs and closed his eyes. He'd hidden his wrist communicator under his redhead's bed. The agency could do without him for a little while. It had been a long 2 months, and besides; he was owed some time off.

Ferb let himself zone out a bit, thinking of everything that had happened in the last 48 hours and forming a plan for what they could do tomorrow when he was brought out of it by the soft squeak of the bedroom door. Ferb was a little surprised to see Candace slip through the crack she made and close it behind her. She held a glass of water with a straw in one hand, and a plate of bite sized pieces of a sandwich and some crackers in the other. "Hey, she whispered, setting the plate on the bedside table before carefully perching on the edge of the bed. "Thought you might be hungry."

Her gaze fell to her baby brother still clinging to him like a leech. "We worried about him while you were gone. He barely slept unless it was out of complete exhaustion and I thought Jeremy or Isabella was going to have to talk him down a time or two. He kept going over those stupid plans, trying to figure out what he'd done wrong. It was actually a relief when the other dimensional Us came through with the news." Reaching out a hand, she ran it gently over her biological brother's head. The other ginger snuffled slightly in his sleep and his grip tightened minutely, but then he relaxed back into his delta sleep.

"I'm glad you're back, Ferb. Not just for our sake, but for his. I don't know what he'd become if you hadn't come back." Ferb nodded, fingers tracing a heart along the knobby shoulder blade under them. "So, you know what had happened?" The young woman nodded. She looked good, Ferb noted. She'd gotten a haircut and the orange locks curled softly around her shoulders. She looked maybe a bit thinner, a bit more tired, and the soft red blouse she wore with her white ankle length peasant skirt hung just a bit more loosely on her, but her eyes were bright with relief and happiness.

"Isabella and Other Candace filled me in after they brought you back. She's expecting, the Other Candace. She and her Jeremy finally tied the knot a few months ago and she's expecting a little boy come February." Ferb nodded, fingers stilling briefly before continuing their ministrations. "Did she tell you what happened to my chest? I was going to ask Phin, but it didn't feel like the right time. He looked so broken..." His voice faded out as he felt his eyes start to burn. Next to him he heard Candace sniff softly. "Yeah, she said you have several fairly minor cuts and burns, the bandage is just more a precaution though none of them needed stitches. There is one that was a bit deeper, needed a bit of treatment. An angular P, just above your heart. It was older, and they can't really explain it because it was made by a different blade than the others."

The two dropped into silence for several moments, the only sound being the soft snores from the sleeping occupants. "What did mom and dad think? About my disappearance," Ferb spoke up, glancing up at his sister. Candace shrugged, offering him the straw which he took gratefully. "Actually, it's a funny story. Apparently they won some contest and got a free two-month cruise around South America. They left the day of the accident and don't even know you've been gone. In fact, they still have a few days before they get back. Mom calls whenever they hit a port with phone service, but most of the time they've been out of range. I'd tried calling when you'd disappeared but I got instant voicemail. Jeremy and I left the twins with Stacy and Coltrane and came here to stay and keep an eye on Phineas."

She offered him a smile. "Now that you're back, though, we'll probably head back home in a day or two. Stace keeps us updated with photos but I miss my kids." Leaning down to peck Ferb on the head a safe range from the bandages, she stood and started for the door. "Eat a bit and then try and get some sleep. Other Baljeet said the chest bandages could come off tomorrow but the head one needs to wait a couple days. We're in my old room if you need us."

Ferb smiled. "Thanks sis." The door closed with a soft click behind her, but not before he caught the small smile she offered the two boys. Looking down at his brother, who'd turned his face out a bit and was now dozing with his mouth slightly open, the puffs of air warming the spot just beneath his collarbone, he couldn't help the fond smile that graced his lips as he reached for a piece of sandwich. Flynn and his dog may have been great company in that make-believe hospital, but nothing beat the real things he had right here.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! This is my first completed and published story and I hope you enjoyed! My hope is to get more done and stuck up here soon. I do love comments so please feel free to tell me what you thought! However, any Flames will be sent to the Himalayas to keep Klimpaloon warm! -HidingintheInkwell


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